


Belt Test

by LMT



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Kink Discovery, No established relationship, Paddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28001820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMT/pseuds/LMT
Summary: Daniel finds something odd in the Cobra Kai closet and gets an education.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 63
Kudos: 85





	Belt Test

**A/N: This is basically just a Johnny & Daniel paddling scene. Kink discovery. No established relationship.**

**Inspired by all the discussions we’ve been having about Daniel & Johnny’s possible attitudes towards kink and masochism. Not super hard or graphic.**

* * *

When he pulled into the Cobra Kai parking lot, Johnny was waiting for him outside. With arms crossed. “I can’t believe this,” he said, before Daniel was even all the way out of the car. “How is it _you_?”

“What?” He slammed the door with a little more force than necessary, locked the car. “How could it _not_ be me? How many guys do you think there are in this neighborhood buying used karate equipment for their own private dojo?”

“I dunno, I figured it was somebody with a _real_ dojo who wanted a _real_ dummy to practice _real_ karate on.”

“No one with paying students is buying off Craigslist, Johnny. It’s a liability nightmare.” He nodded to the door. “Let me in. Help me load up.”

“You got the cash?”

“No, I came to rob you. Of course I have the cash. Let me in, you idiot.”

“Cash first.”

He couldn’t tell if Johnny was kidding, so he took it out and handed it over. Johnny counted – twice – before unlocking.

The dummy had already been wheeled out to the front, off the mat. Daniel circled it quick. “Why are you getting rid of this, anyway?” he asked, more for friendly conversation than anything else. “It looks like it’s in pretty good shape.”

“Got a better one coming. _I_ do have paying students. Gotta give ‘em the best.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Help me load it up.”

When he moved it, though, he noticed the base. “Hey – wait up. There’s supposed to be little feet for this so it doesn’t scratch the floor.”

“No returns, LaRusso.”

He put it down. “Johnny – seriously. Do you have the feet somewhere? I’m going to be putting it over wood, okay, and I need-”

“All right, all right, _Jesus,_ don’t get your panties in a bunch. Come on – they’re probably in the office.”

He followed Johnny back into the office. When Johnny turned the lights on he found himself looking around, which made him feel ill at ease and sort of like a spy. This was Johnny’s private space. “I can wait out there, if you’d rather…?”

“No, you’re going to help me look. I don’t know where the hell they are, but you’re right, I know I had ‘em and they’re definitely around. Here – check that locker over there, the long one.”

Daniel opened the tall metal cabinet and some assorted _stuff_ fell out. Spare bracket things… a box of light bulbs… some headgear and shin guards that looked totally unused (of course. Safety does not exist in this dojo, does it.)… a narrow wooden serving tray…

“What, are you making flatbreads in here?” he said, as he moved it out of the way. But when his hand closed around the handle his brain caught up with him and this was definitely not a tray for your kitchen.

“What?” Johnny called from underneath the desk. Popped his head up. “Oh. No, that’s my fraternity paddle, put it down. Not for sale.”

He pulled it all the way out of the cabinet. “Your _what_?”

“Fraternity. Paddle,” he grunted, pulling something heavy out from under the desk. “It’s what you haze people with. Here’s a box of spare parts and stuff, they’re probably in here somewhere.”

He was still holding the wooden thing in his hand. It felt heavy, solid. The handle smooth. He hefted it a second, flicked his wrist, idly testing it out the way you would any weapon you happened to pick up. He felt like he’d be able to wield this one pretty well.

Then he had a sickening thought: why was it _here_? “You don’t- _use_ this?” he asked suddenly. Glanced out the window overlooking the practice floor. “On your kids?”

“Hm?” Johnny looked up from the box he was digging in. Followed his eyes, parsed the question. “What – no! That would be insane.” He snorted. “Obviously you don’t remember the spirit of fraternity hazing at all.” He returned to what he was doing. “And most of ‘em couldn’t take it anyway.”

He was still reluctant to put the thing down, for some reason. It felt good in his hand. “Then-. Why is it here?”

“So I can beat up annoying visitors who ask too many questions,” he tossed off, then answered. “Because it was in a box of stuff I brought over from my apartment. I don’t have a wife to organize my shit, so god knows what’s where.” Then he stood up. Took a long look, and narrowed his eyes. “ _Seriously?_ ”

“Seriously what?” He seriously didn’t know what Johnny was talking about.

“Seriously, I know that look. I’ve seen it on a couple of girlfriends.” He sighed. “Gimme that.” He gestured insistently, so Daniel came and handed the paddle over. “Now put your hands on the desk.”

“What?” He didn’t follow.

“Put your hands on the desk.” Quiet and serious. He pointed.

Daniel started to, but the desk was low enough that resting his hands on it meant he was starting to bend over.

 _Then_ he understood. “Oh, whoa whoa, no no no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Yes it is. Put your hands on the desk.”

“ _No._ What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?”

Johnny was pressing down on a small smile. “However embarrassing you think it is,” he said, “Isn’t it _more_ embarrassing to lie to me about it, when I already know?”

He swallowed. _Know what?_

“Just put your hands on the desk.” And he stepped out from behind it, and came to stand beside Daniel. Behind him.

Daniel looked down. Put his hands on the desk.

Johnny pushed on his back to bend him a little more forward, shift some weight onto his arms. Kicked his legs apart, casually. “Do you have anything in your pockets?”

He tried to think, but his brain was pretty much out to lunch. It took a minute. “Not- not in my back pockets,” he said at last.

“I’m going to hit you once over pants. Won’t be that impressive.”

Before he could object, or whatever was going to do, he felt Johnny wind up and then the impact of a blow lurched him forward all the way onto his hands. He stood on tiptoe a second until the shock passed. 

“You barely feel it, right?”

He nodded. He’d felt it, like any blow, but it hadn’t _hurt_.

“It’s different on boxers. Hold on a second.” And he leaned against the desk and reached over.

Daniel turned his head away. Tried not to watch his pants being opened. Told himself: _at least he didn’t stand behind you and reach around your waist._

Johnny stood again and tugged his pants down, not far. Just past the bottom of his briefs, just so that a _little_ cool air got in.

He shivered.

“Oh, I get to keep my underwear on?” he said. _Shut up, wiseass._

Johnny chuckled. “The underwear’s not gonna do much.” And he wound up and struck again.

“ _Ah!_ ” This time it wasn’t just impact; this time was _pain_ ; this time was a monstrous sting, so sharp he writhed and then reached back to clutch at himself. “What the fuck!”

“Sorry – you weren’t ready? My bad. Get those hands out of there, man. You need those fingers.”

He didn’t move, until someone took his wrists one by one and detached him. Put his hands one by one back on the desk.

Finally the pain had faded, but before he could say anything Johnny was asking: “Set now?”

He braced himself and nodded.

_CRACK._

It was more than just the fierce sting on his butt cheeks this time; his whole body was _burning_ , overwhelmed. _Why did you let him do that._ “Oh my _god_ that’s hard,” he said breathlessly, finally. Bouncing, jiggling, waiting for it to stop.

He jumped when a hand settled on him – cool even through his underpants. “I take it you never joined a fraternity.”

He shook his head. Laughed, a little deliriously.

“Okay then, last one. You want to say when?” He shook his head again. “Okay, I’ll say. When!”

The last one was unbearable on top of the others and he grabbed himself firmly and spun around. “Jesus Christ, Johnny.”

Johnny looked only amused. “Did that answer your question?”

 _Damn him_ for being amused. It’s not like Daniel had asked any questions anyway.

He pulled up his pants and pulled himself together again. “Yeah, I think it did. Gimme that.” He took the paddle, spun it in his grip, hefted it like before. He still liked holding it – and now he knew what it _did_. He bet he would like that too. “I think we got it backwards,” he said. “Why don’t _you_ put _your_ hands on the desk.”

Johnny gave him eyebrows. Looked him up and down, considering. Then shrugged and opened his jeans. “Go for it.”

He put it down for a second so that he could reach around Johnny with both arms to get the jeans off. He pulled them almost to the knees.

Johnny cleared his throat softly. “Hold on.” He reached down and pulled them back _up_ a ways, but before Daniel could complain about that he widened his stance, which the jeans would have prevented.

 _Show-off. Know-it-all._ Fucking _asshole._

So Daniel hooked the waistband of Johnny’s underwear and yanked those down too. “You get it on bare skin, tough guy.”

“Go big or go home,” Johnny agreed. He sounded relaxed, unafraid, almost _merry._ This really didn’t bother or scare him.

(How could that _be,_ if he actually knew what the thing felt like? It felt awful.).

Johnny arched his back, tilting his hips to present a clear target. Like Daniel wouldn’t know where he was supposed to hit otherwise.

“Okay, here you go.” He swung hard, forehand, and the sound was louder than what Johnny had made against _him_. Loud enough to make him wince in sympathy.

“Wah, jeez,” Johnny breathed. Daniel could see his muscles flexing, thighs and ass and hips. “Daniel LaRusso, more hardcore than meets the eye. Hoo.” He wriggled a little, shifted side to side, then stilled.

Daniel set the paddle against him, aiming, then pulled back and swung again. 

“ _Ssss._ ” A hard, long flex, hips tucked underneath him. Daniel waited him out, and eventually, without saying anything, he unfurled back into what was obviously the _ready_ position.

He squared up and drew his arm back. _Third time’s the charm,_ he thought.It definitely got harder to withstand as you piled pain on top of pain. 

When he struck, though, Johnny still just hissed against it and curled tight – and after a couple of breaths became relaxed and ready again.

Daniel hated him for being so _good_ at this. There was no way the blows didn’t hurt; he wasn’t holding anything back and he _knew_ what the damn paddle felt like; he’d felt it just a few minutes ago. The asshole must be showing off.

“You look like you’ve had a lot of practice,” he said. “People must beat your ass all the time.”

“Not often enough.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” He tapped to aim, then laid on another hard stroke and was gratified to see Johnny jump at least – a little.

But then when the squirming was over he sighed and arched all the way – ass hanging way out there, still and unflinching. “G’head.”

Something about the tone was _off_. It wasn’t tight with suffering, it wasn’t intense and determined, and there wasn’t even a hint of malicious amusement about showing Daniel up. It was just… simple invitation. Like they were playing a board game, and it was Daniel’s turn to go.

So Daniel went: another hard one, with the full strength of his arm. And listened to the hiss, and watched the movement carefully, to try and figure out what the hell was going on.

The conclusion was inescapable, but it made no sense. “Do you… _like_ that?” he asked at last.

“Yeah. Don’t you?” Johnny looked over his shoulder in faint surprise.

Was he _kidding_? He didn’t seem to be. “No. Obviously,” Daniel answered, amazed he had to answer such a stupid question. “It hurts like hell.”

“So?”

It was like they were speaking different languages. “So… pain is bad,” he explained slowly, as if to an idiot.

“No it’s not.” Johnny faced front again. “Pain means someone’s doing something _right_. You must be the worst sensei in the country. And the worst lay.”

“No but-… wait a second. The worst lay?” he repeated. “What kind of sex are you _having_?”

“What kind of sex are _you_ having?”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe this. Aright. Hold still,” he ordered. “I’m going to hit you again, and I want you to tell me the truth: are you claiming that you actually _enjoy_ this?” He swung.

Johnny didn’t even curl away this time when the blow landed; he just circled his hips once, long and luxurious, like he was stretching. Nodded.

“Bullshit. How?”

“Because it’s good,” Johnny said easily. “You have a good arm. Piece of advice, though?”

“Sure.”

If Johnny heard his sarcasm, it didn’t show. “You’re getting the exact same spot every time. You’ll wear the guy out too soon that way. If you want to make it last, you move around. You can go one side and the other, you can go down a little lower. Like…” he brought one hand around, touched the top of his thigh where his underwear bunched, “If you want to make the guy sit on bruises later, you hit him down here.”

 _Sit on bruises later?_ “Jesus,” he murmured. Asked, involuntarily: “You _like_ …?”

“Hell yes.”

 _If you want to make the guy…_ He swallowed. “Do you… want me… to hit you there? To bruise you?” He had no idea whether the offer (proposal?) was too personal or too weird. But the idea that he could beat Johnny long and hard enough to leave him hurting the next day, that Johnny would stand there and take it… he liked that a _lot._ (It didn’t diminish his liking that the asshole might enjoy it; in his gut he couldn’t really believe that anyway.).

“I’m up for it if you are.”

“Um.” He cleared his throat. The paddle was right at home in his hand and he absolutely did not want to put it down. “Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he decided.

“Awesome.” Johnny shifted. “So, we’ll do this first, and then I’ll find your little rubber feet things after. They’re somewhere, I promise.”

It took him a second to remember what the hell Johnny was talking about. “Oh- yeah, okay,” he said at last. “That works, no problem.”

Then Johnny started laughing. 

“What?”

“Nothing, man. It’s just the kids were right: Craigslist ad was a really, really good idea.”

* * *

**The End.**

**Not planning to continue this one. (How many times have I said that before. We’ll see.).**

**I just needed to do something light and fun because the trailer is driving me up the wall. I CANNOT WAIT ANOTHER MONTH FOR THIS OMG.**


End file.
